


Bumps and Bruises

by PeaceLilies



Category: Motorcity
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 12:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/551338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceLilies/pseuds/PeaceLilies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike gets injured and Chuck is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bumps and Bruises

It’s one of those moments in time when you don’t really think or talk, you just kind of let your body do it for you.

There had been a fight downtown, two low-level gangs arguing over a piece of turf. So Mike rolled up in Mutt, hoping maybe his presence alone would scare them off. Yeah, that didn’t work out according to plan.

He couldn’t lie, he was looking for a fight. He had too much energy. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t do any more cleaning or work around the garage because that had already been finished. So he’d hopped in Mutt, looking but not really looking.

And here he was. These guys weren’t very good. They were kids really, not much older than him, some maybe younger. He let them take their punches. He’d had bloody noses and bruises before, no big deal, he wouldn’t break anything.

He let them have some fun, build their confidence a little and then, no more Mr. Nice Guy. They were easy prey, not being able to hold up to his speed. He didn’t hurt them, much, just roughed them up a bit, enough to scare.

“Now, am I going to find you guys out here again? Doing this again?” Mike asked, one hand on his hip, the other on his nose to try and staunch the bleeding. The mini-gangsters just shook their heads and mumbled,

“No, Mr. Chilton…”

“Good. Now get home, it’s late,” and they all scurried off. Mike headed back to Mutt, feeling better than before. Worn and bruised and very much alive. He drove back to the garage, hoping his nosebleed would stop.

***

He tiptoed into Jacob’s as quietly as possible, trying not to make a sound.

“Where did you go this time?” asked a very familiar voice. Mike cringed a bit and sighed.

“Uh…6th and Rochester. Did you wait up for me?”

Chuck was sitting in an arm chair, cocooned in a blanket, his skin was almost glowing in the darkness of the room as he peeked out from under the blanket. 

“Mikey…”

Mike turned to Chuck and gave an apologetic smile. The blonde made a face and stood up.

“Jeez, dude. Why do you do this to yourself?” The brunette stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. 

“Dunno. Just have too much energy. Gotta get it out some how.” Chuck was gently looking at and feeling his face.

“There are more productive and safer ways of doing that, you know,” he sighed, and took Mike’s hand, “come on. Let’s get you cleaned and bandaged up.”

Chuck was pretty calm and collected when it came to dealing with Mike and his late night brawls. The guy would faint at the sight of his own blood, but if it was someone else’s, it was different.

“Oww!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Mike smiled.

“It’s okay, Chuckles.”

“Shirt off please,” the blonde said, holding out a hand, and opening and closing it impatiently. The brunette shucked it off gingerly and handed it over. He could feel the bruises.

Chuck touched his ribs carefully, feeling for abnormalities or breaks. Bruising, but no real damage. His hands were warm and soft as they moved swiftly and expertly. It was nice, the way the skin touched his. Mike closed his eyes, enjoying how certain touches in certain places made his nerves twitch and jump in a nice way.

“Oh Mikey…Mikey, Mikey, Mikey,”the blonde mumbled to himself, carefully tracing over the bumps that were the brunette’s spin. Mike shivered pleasantly. 

“Arms up.” Chuck was very close as he wrapped bandages over Mike’s rips. They contained a cooling and heating solution used to help with swelling. His breath tickled the brunette’s shoulder. Mike caught a whiff of Chuck’s hair, smiling at the sweaty, oddly fruity, specific Chuck-smell. 

The blonde finished and Mike lowered his arms, turning his head. Chuck’s face was right in his, one eye looking back at him as the curtain of hair was being held up by some bobby pins. It was oddly adorable.

“Thanks Chuckles,” Mike murmured, leaning forward to press his lips against Chuck’s. This wasn’t an unusual part of the routine.

Mike goes out and gets beat up, comes home to Chuck who cleans and wraps him up, and Mike pays him back with kisses and cuddles and maybe some sweet, sweet lovin’.

The blonde returns the kiss, straddling one of the brunette’s thighs, hands gently holding his face. Mike had his hands up Chuck’s shirt, resting on his back and rubbing up and down. Soothing, calming. 

“I hate when you do this,” Chuck murmured as Mike kissed his neck and chin and then his cheek, across the trail of freckles on his face. 

“I thought you liked it,” Mike replied, pouting a little. Chuck smiled and kissed Mike’s cheek.

“I like this; I meant you going out and coming back beat up.” Mike took a deep breath and licked his lips.

“I know.”

“So why do you keep doing it, Mikey?”

“It’s…I don’t know. A need, a hunger. There’s something in me that Kane put there that just can’t be…tamed, I guess? I’m restless. I feel like, if I don’t get it out, I’m going to just…float away on it. Go crazy.” Chuck rested his forehead against Mike’s and rubbed their noses together.

“I’ll be your anchor. I’ll tie you down. I think I have enough sanity for the both of us anyway.” Mike smiled and rested his hands on Chuck’s bony hips, rubbing circles into the bone. 

“You would do that for me, Chuckles?” The blonde sighed, hands around the brunette’s neck, eye fluttering closed.

“What haven’t I done for you?” Mike moved his thigh suggestively and Chuck sucked in a breath and let it out shakily. 

“I hope I make it up to you,” he whispered, gently tugging on the taller teens bottom lip. Chuck smiled.

“You do, you definitely do.”

***

Mike woke up the next morning to pale, freckled skin in his face. He chuckled, (which hurt), yawned (which hurt, too), and then kissed the flesh under his lips. Chuck shivered a little and rolled over.

“Morning, bedhead,” Mike said.

“Shut up,” was the reply and he smiled.


End file.
